


Owning Odysseus

by Beryll (Rynthjan)



Category: Troy (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Corporal Punishment, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynthjan/pseuds/Beryll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By a twist of fate, Hector slew Achilles. Disheartened, many Greek soldiers fled. Cowardly Agamemnon escaped, burning what ships remained to prevent his enemies from following him, leaving behind his brother and Odysseus to face the might of Troy. Menelaus died in the following battle, Odysseus was not so lucky...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hector was tired. The festivities of the evening had worn on and on deep into the night and while everybody else had found a reason to excuse themselves hours ago, duty had bound him to stay.

Duty and the knowledge that the people of Troy drew as much hope and confidence from the fact that he was there - highly visible and alive - as from the reassuring truth that the war against the Greeks was over. That it had hit Troy with the might of a raging storm and had passed at last, leaving countless dead on both sides behind.

But the dead would be mourned in the morning. Now was the time to celebrate survival and victory.

Still, Hector was tired. He longed for nothing more then to shed armor and arms. To be father and husband instead of prince and commander.

He tried hard not to listen too closely when he passed the doorway leading to Paris quarters but he could not help his brother's voice finding a way to his ear.

"What good do your fabled wits do you now?" Paris hissed full of spite. "A king you are no longer now. You won't need wits to scrub floors and wash your mistress' feet."

There was a short pause, then the sound of a hard slap, followed by a muffled groan. "Don't you dare look at me, slave!" Hector heard his brother bark angrily. Then his voice turned honeyed. "We will make a good slave of him, won't we, love?"

"I am sure you will tame him," Helen's voice answered, just as sweetly, "you will teach the bastard to respect his betters. No arrogant Greek will ever show his face on this shore again."

Then her voice softened to a whisper so that Hector took an involuntary step closer to the door to hear her next words.

"You know what they would have done to me had they recaptured me, don't you beloved?" she said, her voice filled with fake fear, "that monster who called himself my husband would have shared me with all his despicable allies. I can almost still feel his paws on me..."

Hot anger rose in Hector at her words. That she was a manipulative bitch he had known right from the first moment he had laid eyes on her. But he had hoped she would quit playing her games now that she had what she wanted. But obviously, she needed more satisfaction.

The answer of his brother was what he had expected and still hoped not to hear. He was hers completely.

"Do not fear, love, he will not harm you now. Shall I make sure of it?"

"And how would you do that?" Helen asked back, cruel curiosity now dominating her voice.

Hector could almost see his brother's smile at the next words.

"Shall I break his hands? He won't need nimble fingers for simple tasks."

Hector felt bile rise in his throat.

"That would greatly reassure me." Helen answered.

Hector hesitated another moment, still wanting nothing more than to return to his wife, to ignore his notoriously dishonorable brother, to find some peace. 

But in his heart, he knew he would not find peace knowing what was happening to a valiant man only a few rooms away. Had fate taken another turn, this might have been him in the hands of some cruel Greek king.

He pushed open the door to his brother's quarters, hearing Paris next words.

"Beg me, Greek, and I might spare you."

The scene presenting itself to Hector was as unpleasant as he had feared.

Helen was reclining on a low couch, in her hand a goblet with wine, in front of her a bowl with grapes. She was slightly flushed, if with excitement of too much wine Hector couldn't tell.

Paris was crouching next to one of the large columns dominating his spacious quarters, an ugly sneer on his face, just as flushed as his wife.

And bound to the column was the man they had been talking about. He was sitting on the floor, his arms drawn tightly back around the column. He was clad only in a simple woolen tunic that he had probably worn beneath his armor as it was bloodied, soiled and torn. Just as was the man himself. He wore the various scrapes and cuts any warrior accumulated in a battle and his brow was caked with dried blood. Probably he had been hit there and lost consciousness and thus been captured alive. 

But that wasn't all. His wounds had not been tended to and he was covered with fresh bruises as well, as if he had been beaten recently. There were even some scratch marks on his cheek that Hector was pretty sure had been put there by Helen.

The man had leaned his head back against the column, his eyes closed tightly, gritting his teeth in expectancy of yet more pain.

Odysseus of Ithaca was definitely not in the best of shapes.

"Stop it!" Hector told his brother firmly, as Paris twisted the Greek's fingers further.

Immediately Paris snatched his hands away as if they had been burned, of course knowing fully well that his brother would never approve of his cruel behavior.

"He's my part of the spoils of war!" Paris launched into his defense before Hector could say another word. "He is my slave now. I can do with him what I want!" 

The slight whine to his brother's voice dangerously grated on Hector's nerves.

Paris glances over at Helen seeking aid but she was suddenly busy studying the grapes in her bowl. If there was one thing she had learned since she had come to Troy it was not to try her games with Hector.

She had tried to weasel into Andromache's trust when she had failed with Hector but there she had met only stony silence and Hector was endlessly grateful that his wife had not fallen prey to Helen's charm. It was hard enough that he had been forced to fight a war for the viper. He did not want her in his household.

Hector stared down his smaller brother silently, conveying all the disgust he felt at the sight of Paris with his eyes alone. He wondered how his brother, who had not fought in a single battle, had managed to secure the only remaining Greek king as his spoils. Probably he had either charmed or threatened until he had received this undeserved honor from whoever should have owned Odysseus.

Probably the Greek would have come into Hector's hands, if Hector hadn't refused any such offers. Just as he didn't want Helen in his household, he could well do without some Greek slave forever harboring grudges.

Still it presented a simple way to solve this matter.

He looked over at the Greek warrior whom he had never met in battle on the field but had watched fight with honor and courage.

Odysseus had opened his eyes and was looking back at Hector, tired and his eyes clouded with pain but also with a shred of hope at the sudden appearance of the elder Trojan Prince.

"I thank you that you have taken such good care of him for me up to now," Hector said, turning his gaze back to his brother, completely disregarding his words "but I think will take him with me now."

Paris stared back at Hector openmouthed. Whatever admonishment he had expected, this was not it.

"But... but..." he sputtered dumbfounded.

Hector ignored his feeble complaints and instead walked over to the column, noting that now there was a hint of amusement in Odysseus’ eyes. However bad the last days must have been for the Greek king, he had obviously managed to retain his sense of humor. Something greatly reassuring Hector.

He drew a dagger and cut the ropes binding the Greek to the column.

A glance at Paris showed him that his brother was seething with anger but knew full well that there was nothing he could do or say to prevent the elder Trojan Prince from claiming this slave for himself.

Grabbing the Greek by the shoulders, he helped him to his feet, noting how he winced but kept his mouth tightly shut, suppressing any sound of pain.

"I bid you and your wife a good night." Hector said to Paris, accepting his brother curt nod as farewell, ignoring Helen's suddenly reappeared sweet smile.

Still supporting Odysseus with one arm, he left his brother's quarters. Hector's own suite of rooms was only a few doors down the hallway but by the time they reached them, the Greek was leaning on Hector heavily, all pretense of strength abandoned.

Andromache had gone to sleep several hours earlier, so there was only a single oil lamp burning still in the sitting room. Hector helped Odysseus over to a low bench, setting him down there. The man was barely able to remain on his feet so Hector decided to not consider him as a possible threat just then. He went in search of water and some cloth to clean the Greek's wounds.

By the time he returned the first light of early morning was already seeping into the sitting room. From outside Hector could hear the regular calls of the guards and the first noises from early risers. There would be few today, Hector mused as he carried a jug of water over to the bench. All he wanted to do now was sleep but that would have to wait a little longer.

Odysseus had leaned his head back against the wall behind the bench and his eyes had drifted shut. He looked exhausted. Still he managed to open his eyes again, when Hector approached.

A tired smile formed on his lip. "I should thank you for saving me from the tender mercies of your brother and dear Helen," he stated warily, "but then again maybe I should wait until I learn what you plan to do with me."

A good question indeed. One that Hector had no answer to.

Instead of replying, he sat down next to Odysseus and wet the cloth. "Let me have a look at that." he said and gently turned the Greek's head so he could examine the wound on his brow.

"My horse threw me off," Odysseus explained while Hector carefully cleaned away the dried blood and dirt, "can you imagine? I hit some rock. Of all possible reason to lose, it has to be something that unspectacular." Then he hissed slightly as Hector touched the actual wound.

It must have bled a lot but it didn't seem to be very deep. "You have a hard head." Hector told the Greek.

"So I have been told before." Odysseus' voice held a cheerful note but the wariness remained in his eyes.

For a long moment both men looked at each other quietly and Hector tried to decide what to do with his new slave. The thought of binding him like his brother had done did not sit well with him but on the other hand he did not want his enemy free near his wife and son. This was exactly the reason why he had refused to claim any of the enemy soldiers as slaves.

As if sensing his thoughts Odysseus said: "I won't give you any trouble, Prince. I know when I'm defeated and right now I couldn't even win in a fight against your wife."

Common sense told Hector not to trust the Greek who was renowned for his cunning. But on the other hand, there was no guile in his eyes and he looked exhausted enough to drop asleep right where he sat.

With a tired sigh, Hector rubbed his temples. "There's a small storage room behind that door.,” he told Odysseus, hoping that he wouldn't later regret his decision to trust the Greek. "Take those blankets over there and go to sleep. I'll figure out what to do with you when we have both slept."

Odysseus nodded and then bowed to him. Not like a king acknowledging a prince but deeply as a slave would to his master.

Hector watched warily as the Greek did what he had been told.

Andromache would not be happy, Hector thought, but he would deal with that later

Then he got up to find his own bed.


	2. Chapter 2

The late afternoon sun was sending warm golden light through the high windows when Hector finally woke up again.

He was not surprised that he found himself alone in the large bed he shared with Andromache. She always got up earlier than him to take care of Astyanax. But for a long moment, he had no idea why she had let him sleep into the day when he had a war to fight.

Then the peaceful calm outside seeped into his consciousness and he remembered that the war was over. With a happy sigh he stretched, realizing that there was nothing at all that needed taking care of. He had spoken to Lysander during the festivities of the previous evening and he had promised to take care of the city's guard for a few days to give Hector time alone with his wife and son.

He was about to just turn over and doze a little more when another memory resurfaced.

Odysseus. Paris would be extremely angry that his brother had taken away his toy. And Hector still had no idea what to do with the Greek. With a slight frown, he sat up. Where was Odysseus? It was unlikely that he had slept as long as Hector.

Hector's frown deepened and fear touched his heart when he noticed that his armor as well as his sword were missing from the stand where he had put them before finally going to bed in the morning.

Cursing himself for trusting the Greek, he got up and quickly put on a tunic, then left the bedchamber to look for his wife and son, afraid of what he might find.

He stopped in his tracks in the doorway, staring in surprise at the scene presenting itself to him.

Odysseus was sitting on the floor near the archway leading out to the balcony. Hector's armor lay spread before him and he was busy mending the various cuts it had received during the last battle. Hector's sword lay close by, obviously sharpened and polished.

The Greek was now wearing a simple but clean brown tunic instead of the rags of the previous night. And he looked like he had washed, the various scrapes and bruises now all the more visible.

Neither Andromache nor Astyanax were there.

Hector took a moment to calm himself, now feeling foolish that he had jumped to conclusions so quickly. Then he stepped into the room, making sure Odysseus heard his approach.

The Greek looked up from his work, then bowed his head deeply. The gesture was entirely appropriate for a slave greeting his master but it made Hector feel more than a little uncomfortable. He just could not forget that this was not a simple slave but a Greek king and a man renowned for his courage and cunning.

When Odysseus raised his head again Hector was almost relieved that he did not find the dull expression of an obedient slave in his eyes but wary intelligence.

He also noticed that the scratch marks on Odysseus' cheekbone had turned an angry red and that the skin was slightly swollen. Obviously, the viper had poisonous claws.

"Have you seen my wife?" Hector asked, still a bit of worry remaining in his heart.

The Greek nodded. "Yes, when I got up."

"And where is she now?"

Odysseus shrugged. "She went off for a walk with your son, I think. She didn't tell me."

Hector went over to him, looking down at the armor. "Did she tell you to mend my armor?" he asked.

Now the hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Odysseus' mouth. "Yes, she said that a slave should never sit idle, no matter what you decided was to happen with me."

Hector sat down on a nearby bench with a sigh. "Was she angry?" he asked, feeling relief at the peaceful calm that seemed to blow over the city like a gentle breeze. It was hard to stay worried, hard to frown, hard to wonder if it really was a good idea to have a cunning Ithacan fox in his household.

The smile on Odysseus' lips widened a fraction. "I don't think so."

Hector realized that the Greek probably knew full well what worries were plaguing him. He watched Odysseus carefully when he spoke again.

"For a king captured by his enemies you seem surprisingly accepting of your situation."

Odysseus did not try to avoid his gaze. "The Gods decide a mortal's fate. If they wish me to serve you, there is naught I can do to change the will of the Gods," he stated calmly. "Do not think I haven't considered ways of escaping," he continued before Hector could ask just that. "I had plenty of time for that while I enjoyed your brother's company. But the harsh fact is that I am far from home in a land where many know my face and none of them are my friends."

"You could have taken my wife or my son hostage." Hector voiced his deepest fear.

The Greek laughed mirthlessly. "The archers of Troy are renowned for their accuracy. I doubt I would have gotten more than a few steps from this palace. And even if - where would I go? There is no help to be found in leaving this shore."

With dry amusement, Hector noted that there were definite advantages to a slave who thought through possible plans before acting.

Still wariness remained in Odysseus' eyes and his posture was tense.

"So what do you plan to do with me?" the Greek asked the question that his mind must have been revolving around ever since Hector had taken him.

Hector sighed softly. "I guess I will keep you.,” he said after thinking a while.

He wasn't sure what reaction he had expected but the relief he saw in Odysseus' eyes pleased him. It reassured him that at least for now he could trust the Greek.

"Tell me one thing: Had you remained in my brother's possession, would you have been as accepting of your fate?" Hector asked curiously.

Odysseus face hardened immediately. "No," he said softly, "sooner or later I would have killed him."

Hector nodded, satisfied that Odysseus had not lied.

He got up and stretched. "I'll get some salve for those scratches," he said, "one never knows what that viper has under her nails."

Odysseus blinked at him in surprise but then smiled slowly when he realized that Hector wasn't exactly fond of Helen either.

"You're too kind, master," Odysseus said with a sparkle of mirth to his eyes, when Hector returned, "you will spoil your slave."

Hector scowled at him. "It's hard enough to see you as a slave as it is. Don't make it even harder by speaking out of turn." he grumbled but there was mirth in his voice as well.

He took Odysseus chin and turned the other man's head so he could examine the scratch marks as well as the head wound. He could see that the wound had been taken care of already. Probably ever sensible Andromache's hand. The scratches looked like they were infected. Carefully Hector applied some of the numbing salve.

Odysseus hissed with pain and his hand shot up instinctively, grabbing Hector's wrist hard to pull it away.

Hector remained motionless, curious what the Greek would do next. He was not disappointed when Odysseus let go of his wrist and looked down.

"I'm sorry." Odysseus said.

Hector smiled, strangely reassured that not all the fire was gone from his enemy. His former enemy, he corrected himself. The war was over. Then again, there was no peace to be found between master and slave, was there?

"It's not that simple to be a slave, is it?" Hector asked quietly.

Odysseus looked back at him, sharp eyes searching the Trojan's face for mocking, finding none.

"I'm sure I will have plenty of opportunity to learn.,” he answered after a while.

Hector just nodded and handed the pot with the salve to Odysseus. He watched him apply some more to the scratch marks and then sigh in relief as the pain lessened. Unconsciously, Hector rubbed his wrist where the Greek's strong hand had grabbed him, his eyes raking over the man realizing after a while that he quite liked what he saw.

This was no lithe youth but a seasoned warrior and ruler. A body trained for combat, not to please the eye. But the feeling of that strong fingers on his wrists had tickled an appetite in Hector that he had thought forgotten ever since he had married Andromache. 

Maybe he did have a use for this slave after all. Although he was not at all sure how Odysseus would react to an offer like that. The Greeks were known to favor boys. Hector hardly counted himself as a boy anymore.

And he knew that he wouldn't be able to simply demand the other man's service in his bed. Even had he not felt respect for a honorable foe and still seen the king in Odysseus. He would never be able to treat a slave as carelessly and cruelly as Paris did.

Then Hector realized that he had been staring at Odysseus for quite a while and quickly turned his attention to the armor to check on the Greek's work. He had done well. So there was more than that one use for him.

With a smile, Hector thought that Andromache would find more than enough ways to keep a slave's hands busy. She managed pretty well with Hector too when he wasn't on duty. Maybe she would even be happy about an additional set of hands to help her with running their small household.

Odysseus handed the pot of salve back to Hector. "Thank you.,” he said.

Hector nodded. He got up and stretched once more, now noticing the smell of wine and smoke that still clung to him from the previous night. 

"I'll be off to bath.,” he said. "Tell my wife I'll be back shortly."

Odysseus again bowed his head and then turned back to his task.

Still Hector could have sworn he felt the Greek's eyes on his back when he left.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks later Hector stood on the great walls of Troy, watching the setting of the sun. The sea was tinted golden red where the orb of the sun touched it, looking like it was melting into the water.

The rebuilding of the walls was progressing well. All around Hector, work was coming to an end for the day, craftsmen heading homeward, guards gathering slaves to lock them up for the night. Quite a few of the slaves now hauling blocks of stone had been Greek soldiers mere weeks ago. It struck Hector as a kind of justice that they now helped repair the damage they had wrought on Troy.

With a soft sigh, he leaned his elbows on the wall, cupping his chin in his hands.

His thoughts inevitably went back to the conversation he had had with Andromache only a few minutes ago. They had taken a stroll on the walls together to enjoy the peace and the view.

Hector hadn't even noticed that he had been quiet. That he had paid more attention to the work on the walls then to the sunset, or more precisely to the workers. Watching the Greek slaves had made him think of his own slave. 

And his growing interest. To have Odysseus right in front of his nose day in day out did not exactly help to cool the desire that had stirred in him that first day. He did not want to give in to it as some part of him maintained that it would be dishonorable to treat another warrior like a common whore.

That his friends seemed to expect he was doing exactly that didn't help either. He had stared at his friends in open-mouthed consternation when Lysander asked him if Odysseus truly was as skilled with his tongue as it was said. They had all laughed at that and been thoroughly surprised when they realized Hector had not 'tried the Greek', as they put it.

He had informed them politely that he was quite happy without a bed slave.

He had even managed not to hit any of them when they innocently inquired if they could then borrow the former king for some fun.

He should have known that even if nobody else would notice, there was one person who would pick up on his tension.

'Did you really think you could watch him day after day with your beautiful eyes full of sad longing, without me noticing', Andromache had asked only a few minutes ago, 'I know that look, love, it's the same look you had for me when you were too shy to woe me.'

Then she had looked at him sternly. 'Do something about it.' she had ordered him. 'I will not have you moping any longer. Either bed him or sell him. That's the options I will allow you.'

So now, he would have to do something about this situation before Andromache took it upon herself to act. Just like she had done when they had first met and it had in the end been Andromache who dragged proud, courageous - and terribly shy -Hector to a quiet corner to kiss him senseless.

With a sigh, Hector turned away from the spectacle of the setting sun to make his way back to his quarters and to the problem waiting there.

-

Just as he had expected, Andromache had not come back yet. She was making sure Hector would have the time to sort matters out with Odysseus.

Hector found the Greek sitting on the balcony overlooking the lush gardens of the palace, carving spoons from pieces of wood. His hands moved quickly and surely with an efficiency that clearly showed that he had done so countless times before.

Just like they did with most simply household chores. Andromache had commented more than once how skilled and useful their slave was when it came to craftsmanship.

Thankful for any sort of opening to a conversation, Hector leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching Odysseus’ hands move.

"For a king and warrior you are really good at this." he commented.

The Greek looked up at him with a smile. "A reluctant warrior and king of shepherds, prince." he replied, brushing wooden chips from his knees. "Whoever can love politics or war when he could instead spend his time building a home and tending his flock? The ambitions of kings are what have brought me here, I bear no love for kings or power." The last words were delivered with quiet loathing.

Hector nodded. He had ever been a warrior and he would one day be king of Troy. That was his life. But a quiet evening with Andromache and his son were the points making that life worthwhile.

With a feeling of relief he realized that a good part of what drew him to Odysseus were their like views on life, not just a vague sense of lust. Maybe that knowledge would help him stop feeling like he would be using the other man for his pleasure. Now he just had to somehow get that across to the Greek, along with the fact that he was interested at all.

"There is something I want to talk to you about." he said, noting with slight disgust how much of the insecurity he felt showed through in his voice.

Odysseus quirked an eyebrow curiously but didn't say anything. Only his green eyes showed some anxiety at this announcement.

It took all Hector's courage to keep facing the Greek when he continued.

"I...," Gods... how to phrase this, "was wondering... if you would share my bed." There, now he had said it. Put it as bluntly as he had feared he would but he had never been one for pretty words.

Odysseus blinked at him in open surprise. Whatever he had expected, this had not been it.

In one way, Hector was pleased that he had managed to hide his desire so well. On the other hand, the fact that the thought obviously never had crossed Odysseus’ mind rankled.

He watched as the Greek quickly brought his features back under control till only a neutral mask remained and then lowered his gaze the way he always did when he was trying hard to behave like a slave should.

"It is your right as my master to demand this, prince." Odysseus said, his voice carefully void of any expression.

Hector shook his head. This was exactly what he did not want. He had meant what he said when he told his friends he didn't need a bed slave. He was not entirely sure what he wanted but ordering a man whom he held in high respect to his bed was not included.

"But I do not command you." Hector answered. "I am offering."

He was immensely relieved when Odysseus looked up again with a slight smile. Obviously, he had gotten the important distinction between the two options. The Greek cocked his head, carefully studying Hector in a way the Trojan Prince was sure he not been looked at in a long time. 

He wondered what Odysseus saw in him but he managed to keep his mouth shut, not asking that question. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to know. Should the Greek come to a favorable decision he might ask at some point, but certainly not now.

"I have to admit I had not considered this before." Odysseus finally said. 

A hint of mirth was sparkling in his eyes and Hector wasn't at all sure if it was directed at him or at the Greek himself.

"Will you grant me time to think on your... offer?"

Hector thought back to what his wife had said earlier. Either bed him or sell him. But ever reasonable Andromache would probably be quite satisfied that her shy husband had at least tried. 

Although he was wondering if she would really demand he sell the Greek should he refuse. He hoped not. Even just as a competent slave, Hector did not wish to lose Odysseus over something as foolish as his desire.

And once this matter had been resolved one way or another he could stop 'making eyes' at the Greek, as Andromache had called it.

Hector answered Odysseus question with a nod. "Of course."

A strange feeling of calm settled over him now that he had finally managed to get over his nerves. He turned and looked out over the gardens, watching as small oil lamps were lit here and there, as people strolled down the paths to enjoy the cooling evening air and the end of the day. 

It was a peaceful sight. No traces remained of the fear and tension that had held the whole city in a viselike grip only a month before. How quickly people forgot about pain and death. But he was no different from them.

Before Andromache had cornered him about Odysseus they had talked about having a second child, how they both wished for a daughter, what they might call her. Life had returned to Troy and he could not help but feel happy.

And all because he had defeated the mightiest of the Greeks. Apollo himself had guided his hands that morning. When he had kissed Andromache goodbye, when he had stepped outside the city walls to face the raging Greek he had been resigned to die.

He knew the extent of his skills, had tested them in more battles then he was comfortable with. And he had seen Achilles fight. By all rights he should be walking the ashen paths of Hades now.

With a slight shudder, he recalled the Greek's words. To desecrate his body after victory, to send him to Hades blind and honorless. He had been afraid then.

Still he had fought as hard as he could, not willing to give up life before he absolutely must. And then the bright morning sun had reflected of his shield in just the right way, blinding Achilles for one crucial moment. The one moment Hector had needed to ram his sword home and pierce the Greek's heart.

The look on Achilles face had been strangely calm and slightly surprised, when he had sunk to his knees, his lips forming words Hector had not understood.

And then mighty Achilles had died.

Hector had stood there in the dust, staring down at the body in disbelief. He would probably still be standing there, if not a cheer to shake the city had rose from the walls of Troy. That had wakened him and he had silently given praise to Apollo, thanking the patron god of Troy for his intervention and for this chance at life.

Then he had carefully picked up the dead hero and carried him inside.

The burial rites had lasted three days and every honor due a man like Achilles had been observed.

"I think, I would."

The sudden words from behind him reminded him of the present and of the fact that he was not alone.

He turned around to again face Odysseus, who looked back at him calmly, his carving knife now resting. There was again that sparkle of dry amusement in his green eyes and once more Hector wondered what exactly the Greek was thinking when he looked like that.

"You would what?" he asked back.

A low chuckle answered his question and he knew the answer the same moment he asked and just had the time to feel foolish when Odysseus spoke.

"Share your bed." Odysseus answered. "Though I wonder if that is the best of places. What will your wife say?"

That brought a smile Hector's face. "Be assured, she doesn't mind. As long as she doesn't need it herself."

"An understanding wife you have, prince." Odysseus commented, getting to his feet and joining him at the railing of the balcony.

Hector's smile grew into a grin as the Greek then quite deliberately closed the distance between the two of them, putting one hand onto the railing on each side of Hector, trapping him. He felt deep relief at Odysseus' reaction. This was what he had wanted, he realized. A meeting on equal terms and obviously Odysseus had no problem putting their master/slave relationship out of his mind for a while.

"You came to a decision quickly, Greek." he said, grinning down at the other man, acutely aware of his greater height and enjoying it.

"I have been told I am a faster thinker." Odysseus replied, his grin matching Hector's.

"So I have heard." Hector's grin changed to a smirk as he used the same words Lysander had used only a few days before. "Let's see if your tongue is as quick as they say as well."

Wasting no more time with words he leaned down to get a first taste, keeping their kiss slow then deepening it. The Greek responded with the same careful increase in pressure, both testing the other like they were circling on the battlefield. 

When they separated, it was with a small gasp from both of them. Fire had ignited in the Greek's eyes and Hector felt his own body tingle with delicious tension.

Earlier doubts forgotten he did not hesitate to follow when Odysseus turned and headed inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Hector was in a splendid mood when he dismounted from his horse and handed it over to the waiting stable hand. He had just come back from the temple of Apollo outside the city.

Rebuilding the temple had been a special concern to him as he still believed he owed his very life to the god who had been so grievously insulted by Achilles.

Only two days ago had the work finally been completed and the priests had returned with much celebration and offerings of gratitude from the whole city to their patron god.

This afternoon Hector had gone to the temple on his own to pray to Apollo, bearing offerings for the sun god. Not only thanking the god for his own life but also for the new life growing in Andromache. 

He smiled at he entered the palace. It was only a few weeks ago that they had talked of having another child and this morning Andromache had told him that the gods had heard their words and granted them their wish. She had been glowing with life and happiness, more beautiful than ever before and he had not been entirely sure if he should go to the temple or maybe worship at her feet instead.

Of course, she had soundly smacked him when he had mentioned that and sent him out to the temple. But she had been smiling as well.

Odysseus on the other hand had been quiet and thoughtful and Hector had wondered what ailed the Greek who had become almost a part of their small family instead of a slave since that first warm evening they had spent 'sharing Hector's bed' - as Odysseus mocked Hector regularly. 

At first Hector had been a bit worried that Andromache might get jealous even though she had set them up. He had asked her one quiet evening and she had replied with a surprisingly dirty smirk that she didn't mind at all, as his unions with the Greek seemed to 'wet his appetite'. 

And he had realized with some blushing that it was true that they had made love every other day ever since the war was over. Probably that was another reason why they had been blessed with Andromache's pregnancy so quickly.

Lost in his pleasant thought he might have missed the voices from his brother's quarters when he passed them by, hadn't there been this strange shrill and at the same time triumphant tone to Helen's voice.

Both his brother and Helen had been blessedly absent from his life for the last weeks. He had only seen them at a dinner held by their father and of course at the celebrations for Apollo two days ago. And even then, they hadn't exchanged more than a word of greeting.

His father on the other hand still seemed infatuated by the viper and had talked with Helen for quite a while. A sight that had filled Hector with a nagging sense of unease even on such a happy day. The notion that she must be up to something had settled on him but he couldn't think of what it might be.

"You will suffer for daring to touch my wife, bastard!" Paris voice spoke, not much more than a hate-filled hiss.

Hector had a moment to wonder what this was all about when he heard Odysseus answer with barely checked anger.

"You know full well I would never touch the bitch, princeling. I wonder that you have survived her attention for so long..."

The words were cut short by the crack of a whip, immediately followed by a startled yelp from Paris.

Not hesitating a second, Hector pushed open the door to his brother's room, afraid that he already was to late to stop what ever Helen had cooked up.

The woman was leaning against a column, the bodice of her gown ripped, her artful make-up smeared by tears streaking down her face. She would have looked the perfect victim hadn't she thought herself unobserved. She was smiling wickedly, watching the scene in front of her.

Paris was standing there, his face contorted in rage and pain and fear. In his upraised hand, he held the whip Hector had heard but Odysseus had caught the young prince's wrist in an iron grip before he could bring it down. This time he was not bound and injured and Paris was no match for the fury burning in the Greek's eyes.

Hector, on the other hand, was. With one step, he was beside the two men. Ignoring how Helen quickly wiped the smile from her face at his appearance, he grabbed Odysseus by the shoulder and pulled him back. The Greek whirled, dropping in a fighting stance. Hector made no move to oppose him and instead just looked at him hard, trying to convey the danger Odysseus was in and to bring him back to his senses.

They stared at each other for a long moment till the fury in Odysseus' eyes faded. He quickly glanced at Helen, who leaned against the column weakly, then at Paris who was rubbing his wrist, looking ready to kill the Greek on the spot, then back at Hector, who could see how realization dawned on Odysseus at how he had been manipulated.

Quickly lowering his head, Odysseus sank to his knees by Hector's feet.

Steeling himself, Hector turned his attention to his brother who was fuming with barely suppressed rage.

"I will see him killed for this!" the younger prince announced. "The bastard touched my wife! The gods only know what he would have done had I not come in!"

Helen gave a tiny sob at that and Hector shot her a look of pure disgust. He wasn't entirely sure if she had come up with this on her own or if Paris was only acting the part of enraged husband but he was willing to give his brother the benefit of doubt.

"And he attacked me!" Paris continued. "You saw it yourself! He must die! He must die slowly and painfully!"

He took one step forward but Hector quickly put himself between Odysseus and his brother.

"How can you protect the bastard?!" Paris hissed, obviously close to completely losing his composure.

"I agree that he must be punished." Hector conceded, as much as it pained him to say so. "But how to punish him is up to me." 

If he didn't take care of this right away, he was sure that Helen would involve his father. And then Odysseus' life would be forfeit for sure. His word would mean nothing against Helen's, Paris would take her side and Hector had simply not been there to witness what had happened. So, he would not be able to testify in Odysseus' favor. The viper had picked the time for her game well. 

"You won't punish him!" Paris spat, his voice filled with disgust and loathing. "You fuck him, he's your pet!"

Hector felt Odysseus tense at the words without having to look at him. He just hoped the Greek would be able to keep his temper in check this time or he might well end up dead even with Hector trying to prevent it.

At least Odysseus’ anger helped Hector to remain calm for some reason. His patience was sorely tested though, when Helen spoke up.

"He tried to rape me..." she sobbed under fake tears, finally parting with her column to seek Paris' protective embrace.

Hector felt sick at her outrageous lies but Paris obviously believed her, wrapping her in his arms, glaring alternately at his brother and at the slave by his feet.

"Well...?" he asked, his voice still the same hateful hiss. "How do you plan to punish your slave? No dinner tonight? I will take this to father. He will see to a proper punishment!"

Realizing that his brother's hatred would only be satisfied by blood, Hector did the only thing that came to his mind so quickly.

He stretched his hand out to Paris. "The whip." he demanded calmly.

At that, Odysseus head shot up. Again, they looked at each other, Hector willing Odysseus to understand why he had to do this. He could see in the Greek's face how he fought with himself to accept a punishment for something they both knew he would never do. Finally he gave Hector an almost imperceptible nod, his eyes going cold and flat as he steeled himself for what was to come.

Paris was still gapping at his brother at this unexpected turn of events but when Hector took the whip from his hand, he noticed the gleeful anticipation Helen couldn't hide.

Silently he swore that she would pay for this.

Then he turned to Odysseus. "Take off your tunic." he commanded. The Greek obeyed without hesitation. Hector had the distinct feeling that he wanted this to get over with just as quickly as Hector did himself.

"On your feet, hands against the wall."

Again, Odysseus obeyed wordlessly, assuming the position that exposed his naked back to the two Trojan princes and Helen.

Hector was almost relieved when he heard his brother draw in a sharp breath. A glance showed him that Paris was hugging Helen closer, now some doubt in his pretty face. It assured Hector that this had been Helen's plot alone.

Still that would not spare Odysseus the pain or be any consolation afterwards.

Hector cracked the whip once to get a feel for it. Long, made of braided leather it would normally be used for the horses in front of a chariot. Hector knew how to use it. He hoped reverently that he knew well enough not to cripple the man who he now realized had become his friend.

Knowing that his hesitation would only be additional torment to Odysseus, he brought the whip down on the Greek's bare shoulders, suppressing his own wince in sympathy as the impact raised a first welt.

He did not stop after that first blow, methodically using the whip on Odysseus till his back was crisscrossed with angry red lines, then till the skin broke and blood started to seep from the cuts, till he was shaking with the effort to remain on his feet. The only sounds in the room were the crack of the whip, Hector's harsh breathing and the grunts of pain from the Greek.

At last his strength was spend and he crumbled to the ground with an anguished cry, his blood soiling the white marble floor where he lay on his side, panting, his whole body heaving as he drew in one ragged breath after the other.

Hector closed his eyes, the whip limply hanging in his hand, stilled at last.

To see this man, his lover, like this pained him to the core of his being.

Slowly he turned around to face Helen and his brother again. He was satisfied at the look of quiet horror on Paris' face. Whatever his brother had hoped to achieve with demanding Odysseus' punishment, he had obviously not been prepared to face it quite so intimately. If nothing else, Hector was thankful that his honorless brother did not find pleasure in the pain of others as much as he had feared.

Helen was another matter altogether. Her face was slack and her eyes glazed over with undeniable lust. In that moment she was not beautiful - she was the most disgusting thing Hector had ever seen in his life.

He walked over to Paris, grabbed his brother's hand and put the bloodied whip into it, watching with sick humor as Paris looked at the whip as if it would turn into a snake any moment.

"He well never come near your wife again." Hector said, amazed at the calm in his own voice. He looked directly at Helen with his next words. "I suggest you make very sure your wife does not come near him either."

At that Paris turned to Helen too and this time she did not manage to get her features under control in time. Hector was very sure that his brother had seen what lurked beneath that pretty exterior. But that was for Paris to deal with.

He went back over to Odysseus. It took him his last bit of strength to remain calm when he again faced what he had done to his friend, the bloodied mess that should have been a proud warrior. Gently he picked the Greek up, first trying to bring him back to his feet, when that didn't work picking him up fully. Odysseus was hardly conscious, still he whimpered in pain as Hector lifted him into his arms. 

Now covered in the Greek's blood as well, Hector left his brother's rooms, silently swearing only to return to extract revenge from Helen.


	5. Chapter 5

Five days had passed since Odysseus' encounter with Helen. Five days that Hector would have wanted to spend by the injured man's side. 

But duty had called him away as attacks on Trojan settlements to the north had been reported and the king had been worried that it might be stray soldiers of the Greeks. It had turned out to be simple bandits, a matter that any commander could have dealt with. This fact did not serve to better his mood.

Of course, he knew that Andromache could take care of Odysseus much better than he would have. And that he was as safe with her as he would have been with him. 

Hector pointedly recalled her words when he had brought back the bleeding and by then unconscious Greek to their quarters. He had winced at the fury in his wife's eyes very much hoping that it would never be directed at him and then he had wondered where exactly she had learned the choice curses and names she had put on Helen. Some part of him had argued that no future queen should know such vocabulary, another part had agreed with her wholeheartedly.

Maybe it had even been better that he had not been there. After all, it had been him who wielded the whip. He prayed that Odysseus had really understood that Hector had only done it to save the Greek's life. And that Odysseus would be able to forgive him. But he couldn't be sure.

He stopped a moment in front of the door leading to his rooms, drawing in a deep breath to steel himself for whatever was to come now.

He had already delayed this as long as he possibly could, first cleaning up after the long ride, then checking on the city defenses. 

His quarters lay quiet. Andromache would be outside in the gardens with their son at this time of day. Maybe Odysseus was well enough already that he had accompanied them. Hoping that he would maybe be able to spot them Hector turned to the balcony.

He faltered in his steps as he noticed that the Greek was standing out there, leaning against the railing, gazing down at the gardens himself. In the stiff way he stood Hector could clearly see that Odysseus still felt the pain of his beating. Thankfully, the soft woolen tunic he wore hid the marks on his back.

Just when Hector had re-gathered his courage the Greek turned away from the gardens with a soft sigh. Hector had only a moment before Odysseus' noticed him and schooled his face to a careful calm but that moment was enough to see the deep sadness. It definitely wasn't only his back that pained him.

He stepped out onto the balcony silently, not sure what to say.

For once, the Greek seemed to lack words as well as he just watched Hector quietly and a bit wearily.

"I am sorry," Hector finally said, bluntly as always when he didn't know how to be polite, "if there had been any other way to get you out of this alive I would have used it." 

Odysseus' unease faded visibly. He even managed to bring a small smile to his face. "I do not blame you, prince." he said gently. "I... I did not know if you believed her..."

"Never." Hector spit out the word, hatred again curling in his guts like a bitter snake. Gossip in the guard's barracks had been that Prince Paris was losing interest in his pretty Greek trophy, that he had been seen in the city, back at flirting with the ladies.

"How did she trick you?" he asked.

Odysseus started to shrug but then thought better of it, remembering his back. "I was preoccupied. When I heard her scream, I just ran to see what was wrong. She was already busy tearing her gown. And she kept screaming till your brother arrived while I foolishly tried to calm her." he sighed softly. "I should have run in the opposite direction the second I heard her."

Hector nodded. This was close to what he had imagined had happened. Only he had not expected clever Odysseus to fall for such a simple ruse.

"Why does she hate you so?" he wondered aloud.

"I don't think it's me." Odysseus said thoughtfully. "I remember Menelaus saying how proud he was of her because she was such a strict mistress to his household. No slave was ever out of line. She seems to crave the pain of others. The war must have been a major feast for her..." The disgust in Odysseus' voice perfectly mirrored the disgust Hector felt at that thought.

"I hope your brother is not too dear to your heart," Odysseus continued, "I guess it will be only a matter of time till she turns against him as well."

At that, Hector smiled cruelly. "My brother's love is easily won but hard to keep. Already he is turning from her. In a few months, she will be forgotten. She has gained my father's protection but that will not keep her safe forever. I will not forget what she did to you."

His words brought warmth to the Greek's eyes and he closed the distance between the two of them. "Thank you." he said softly.

Hector nodded quietly, grateful that nothing had changed between them. But he still remembered the sadness in the Greek's eyes.

Trying to find a way to broach that subject he gazed down at the gardens himself and noted that his wife and son were right in his view, sitting on a bench not far away. To see Andromache hold their son, to see how she told him about the small birds hopping over the path, brought a smile to his face.

Then he realized that this was the view Odysseus had been watching as well.

Turning back to the Greek, he looked at him worriedly. "Why does it pain you so to see my wife and son?" he asked softly.

Odysseus only faced him for a moment, before he quickly looked away but it was enough for Hector to see that sadness flit over his face again.

"It is nothing, my prince." the Greek said, his voice carefully controlled.

He did not fool Hector. Taking care to keep the pressure gentle he laid both hands on the other man's shoulders. "Odysseus, I would call you friend and lover. I'd wish you'd call me the same and tell me what is wrong." he said, for once finding the words to express what he felt.

The Greek sighed softly, looking up at Hector. When he spoke, it was haltingly. "My son was born just before Agamemnon called Greece to war. I have held him in my arms no more than two times. The night he was born and the morning I left Ithaca. My wife has raised him alone unless she has taken another husband for she must believe me dead."

The pain in Odysseus' eyes was overwhelming, now laid bare for Hector to see.

"I love my sweet Penelope as you love Andromache."

He was going to say more but Hector laid a finger against his lips in a gesture of gentleness one would normally only see on him with his wife or son.

"I understand." he said softly, his own voice reflecting Odysseus' pain. To know what Odysseus must have suffered watching him with Andromache every day... "I apologize for never considering this. I was selfish in my happiness."

"As is your right," Odysseus answered just as gently, "I am not your lover, Hector, I AM your slave. You have shown more kindness than can be expected of any master."

As ever his accuracy drove home the point Hector had been trying to conveniently ignore. But he could not do that now anymore and keep his honor intact in his own eyes.

"Then I can be your master no longer." Hector named the only way he could see though even as he said it he knew he would miss the Greek greatly. "You have served me and my family well." he continued, now putting the authority of a Trojan Prince behind his words. "I am granting you freedom from servitude. You may return to your home and family."

Odysseus looked at him quietly, calmly. "This will not sit well with your friends or your brother." he said.

Hector just shrugged with a rueful grin. "What will they do? Throw me out of Troy? I will live it down, and you know I will."

Slowly the Greek nodded, a small smile on his lips and his eyes shining now with quiet happiness. Then he bowed, not as deeply as he had done before but the polite bow of a king greeting another one. "I thank you, prince of Troy, for your generosity."

Then he looked up at Hector again, his smile growing to a grin of his own. "And I thank you, Hector, for being such a fine man and gifting me with your affection." he added, grabbed Hector by the hair and pulled him down into a fierce kiss.

\--

The morning is eerily quiet. Some gulls shriek on the first breeze, the water laps gently against the rocks. A bit off, the sailors are packing the last pieces of cargo into the small boat that will take them out to the trireme waiting off the shore. They move efficiently but in silence. Too early for a chat. Time for that later when the ship is off on the morning tide.

Hector and Odysseus watch them just as silently. Only a few minutes now and they will part. Hector knows the merchant who will take Odysseus back to Greece well and he has paid him well, too. He has no doubt that the man will deliver his friend safely on the other side. And Odysseus has assured him that he will find his way home once he is across the sea.

Still Hector knows that he will not sleep soundly till rumor reaches his ear that the king of Ithaca has returned home. It may be months till that happens.

"I will miss you much, my friend." he says suddenly. He has not admitted to his feelings. Had decided it would be better to remain silent. But now he has to say it anyway.

Odysseus turns his gaze from the sea and smiles at Hector. "And I will miss you, Hector of Troy." He cocks his head slightly, so much the sly fox that Hector has to smile despite the sadness he feels. "Who would have thought there would be such treasure to find in Troy." Odysseus comments dryly, smirking. "A pity I cannot take it home." 

Hector shakes his head at the Greek's lightheartedness but picks up the banter. "You do not get to carry home loot when you lose, Greek." he says.

For a moment, they look at each other, both feeling the pain of parting.

Then Hector hugs the other man close, a little more than a warrior's embrace, not enough to be too telling. He feels his heart lighten as Odysseus' arms encircle him just as closely.

They separate quickly, not wanting to give each other a chance to cling. Odysseus turns to leave but Hector stops him with a hand on his arm.

"I hope this is not the last I will see of you," he says softly, "come visit, as a friend."

Odysseus' grin is wicked. "I just may," he answers, "and if I do, I will bring my wife along. I'm sure she and Andromache will have a lot to talk about."


End file.
